


Intoxication

by swafnir



Category: True Detective
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22830211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swafnir/pseuds/swafnir
Summary: A Rust Cohle x Marty Hart fanfic set after the Ledoux shootout in 1995.
Relationships: Rustin "Rust" Cohle/Martin "Marty" Hart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Intoxication

**Author's Note:**

> reposting this from tumblr (original notes at the end)

It is almost midnight when they finally get home, dead tired, still wearing their dirty clothes soaked in sweat. The sweat slowly started to turn rancid throughout the day and fills Rust’s nose on the drive home. It’s not such a bad smell after what they had experienced in the morning. They had not said a word to each other after filing their reports, answering the same questions over and over again. It seemed like everyone believed their story, thought them heroes even. But the praise, which was easily given every time they told their made-up story, their fairy tale, left a bitter taste in the back of Rust’s throat. Marty still smiled when he was expected to, like nothing was wrong, but Rust could sense his insecurity as if he was building a concrete wall around himself. He hid his pain about the two children behind a mask of victorious cheer, but he still smelled of fear. He broods on their way back, and Rust lets him. He doesn’t know what to say, isn’t even sure himself what he is feeling. He’s not angry at Marty for killing Ledoux, possibly would have acted the same way. He felt for the kids, died a little inside when he learned that the boy had still lived only a day or two before they found him. However, even though it had been years, he still remembers holding Sophia’s frail, shattered body as if it had been yesterday. And still, every single emotion he’s had since then pales in comparison, leaving him numb and insensible. Sometimes he feels as if the world is covered by a thin veil, not quite reaching through to him. But Marty, chafed raw by today’s experiences, would not, could not understand, so Rust withdraws, only making sure that Marty gets home safe, eyeing him silently whenever they have to halt at a traffic light.

~

When Rust opens the door to his house, he immediately feels more at ease. Everything is still more or less the same since Marty has moved in, the walls still bare, the rooms without comfortable seating. But it smells more of home when cigarette smoke mingles with the smell of Marty’s aftershave and the aroma of coffee left in the kitchen for Rust to drink later, more than anything had, ever since Sophia was gone. Even Marty, who had made a big fuss during his first days with Rust, who had sworn like a trooper and complained about every little detail in Rust’s life, is more or less settled in now.

“You go ahead and take a shower,” Marty says before he pours a glass of whiskey and slumps into one of the garden chairs in the kitchen. Rust simply nods and goes to wash off the dirt of this wretched day. The water turns black and viscous in Rust’s mind, but as soon as it’s down the drain, the dark wings, which had been hovering over him the whole day, disappear. The hot water relaxes him, and he feels almost normal when he finally lies on his mattress. But despite feeling tired and weary, he has difficulties falling asleep, as always. He should have refilled his stock of pills, but with all the preparations for the undercover work, he hadn’t had the time. He keeps his eyes closed, but he can clearly hear Marty dropping something in the bathroom and cursing afterwards, then turning on the shower. For a while, Rust waits for sleep to come and relieve him from all the thoughts and memories swirling around in his head. But after half an hour, he opens his eyes and it makes no difference at all. Moreover, he hears that the shower is still running and decides to check up on Marty because he has nothing better to do.

~

The bathroom is foggy, hot and moist. Rust sticks his head in since Marty does not answer his call from the hallway. The shower curtain has dark red, pulsing stains until Rust blinks, and suddenly he worries about his partner, so he draws back the curtain without second thoughts. The curtain basically melts in Rusts hands, and suddenly, the light is golden yellow. Marty sits on the floor under the running water, head in his hands. Rust turns off the water. “Oh for Christ’s sake, Marty, come on,” he mutters while still being shaken from his own illusions, but at the same time he realizes that Marty had probably been crying. He doesn’t know how to react to this situation. His first response is a step back, but Marty makes no attempt at getting up and suddenly, Rust realizes that this is the world reaching out to him from under the veil. He tastes salt at the tip of his tongue when he decides to offer his hand. He kneels down, gently grabs Marty by the shoulder and leads him to the towel, hands him the briefs and all. Marty keeps looking down to the ground, but lets himself be led to Rust’s mattress and doesn’t look up when Rust climbs in right after him. It seems like the most logical solution to Rust. He’s not used to intimacy anymore, but he remembers well that he would have liked someone’s closeness after Sophia’s death to share his pain, had he been able to allow himself that comfort. After the light is turned off, Rust closes his eyes again, but everything is different. Marty radiates warmth and that smell which as of late signifies trust and some sort of friendship. His breathing is irregular, his body too motionless, and Rust can’t hold back. He rolls over, towards that promising warmth, and hugs Marty, softly whispering: “Shhhh, it’s going to be alright…”

~

Rust will never know if it was the fact that the two children really touched Marty’s heart too much or that he was still shaken by having shot a man in the head or that he just missed his family, but the other man gratefully eases into his embrace and for some time, they just lie there, Rust holding Marty, feeding off each other’s warmth, and to Rust it feels like the most natural thing he’s experienced in a long time. He inhales Marty, who smells of soap and, beneath that, of a golden wheat field on a summer evening just before the storm begins. And then, for a moment, Marty’s hair flashes up and Rust thinks he’s having an illusion again, half expecting thunder to follow. Instead, he hears a car driving by, its headlights casting shadows on the wall of the bedroom. Marty stirs slightly and Rust’s arms lock around him. He suddenly feels possessive, doesn’t want to let go of the warmth. He never consciously missed physical contact ever since he had lost Sophia, hasn’t had much besides handshakes, frisks and the odd brawl, but now something changes inside him and he can suddenly feel how his body is starving from loneliness. Slowly, he reaches up and touches Marty’s neck tentatively. His fingers tingle. Marty’s skin is soft, vulnerable, but under Rust’s fingertips, it tenses and Rust can feel the goosebumps raise. Marty does not move away, for whatever reason, Rust doesn’t really care anymore. He grazes Marty’s neck with his lips, hesitating before placing them at the back of the neck lightly. Now, Marty’s whole body tenses, and when he turns around, Rust half expects a fist to come his way. Instead, he gets a skeptical, but curious gaze. They stare at each other for a few heartbeats that seem like eternity.

~

By now, Rust is hard and certain that Marty can feel it, as they are both only wearing briefs and are closely pressed together due to Marty’s shift. Never breaking eye contact, Rust digs his fingers into the back of Marty’s neck, pulling his face close. Slowly, their lips melt together as they kiss, tenderly at first, then more desperately. Rust can feel Marty’s hot breath on his skin like fire, nearly burning him. He feels light-headed and something in his stomach seems to flutter and try to break out. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into them, it almost feels like a high. Marty moans into Rust’s mouth when he shoves his tongue in deep. Maybe it’s just their fucked up minds’ way of coping, but as long as it feels as good as this, Rust is not going to complain. They only break up their kiss when both of them are struggling for air, but by now their limbs are tangled up so much that they can’t completely separate anymore. Rust has one leg between Marty’s and his hands are all over him now, caressing his neck, following the muscular back down to the firm backside, which he pulls closer. Marty’s smell is almost intoxicating, filling his lungs, diffusing into his system. He drags his tongue along the line of Marty’s neck, making the other man arch back with eyes closed while their hips are closely pressed together, grinding against each other. Rust can clearly feel Marty rubbing against him now, and the heat spreads from between his legs up into his insides and from there to his head. They kiss again, and this time it’s a raw, needy kiss which almost draws blood. Rust firmly holds Marty’s neck with one hand while the other one wanders straight down to his crotch, cupping and palming that sweet spot, sending shivers through Marty’s body. With heavy lids, lips half parted, glistening in the moonlight, as well as mussed golden hair, Marty almost seems another person and Rust’s desire for him in that moment expels any other thought from his consciousness. His arousal is almost painful now, a delicious pain clouding his mind, getting worse when he finally feels Marty’s hand at his waist, pulling off his briefs, digging into his ass and caressing the delicate skin at the tip of his cock. He bucks up against Marty’s hands while he runs his own over Marty’s body, trying to map every little detail. Their mouths come together once more while their hands free each other of the last bit of fabric between them. Rust carefully cleans Marty’s lip of the remaining saliva afterwards, before licking and moisturizing his hand. They are both past the point of caring about anything else but each other’s touches, and somewhere deep inside, they are happy about forgetting everything for one relieving moment. Marty gives in to Rusts hand easily when it claims what, in this moment, seems to have been his for a long time, moaning into his neck, breathing hot against his skin. In one graceful leap, Rust is on top of him, rocking his hips in accord with the pushes of his fingers inside Marty. He bends down and kisses the nape of the neck of the other man, who tastes salty now, as beads of sweat decorate his skin. Splayed beneath him, his hands buried in the sheets and his well-built body contrasting the darkness, Marty looks almost sensual. In between his moans, he repeats the word “fuck” too often, but he only needs the slightest directional touch to turn onto his stomach. Meanwhile, Rust is fishing for that one condom Marty had thrown in his direction a while ago, with the words: “You probably just need a good fuck.” The condom had since collected dust behind a pile of books next to the mattress, but maybe Marty had been right. However, there’s no time to think about that now, and after hastily having knocked over the pile of books, Rust finds what he’s looking for. Marty groans disappointedly when Rust’s fingers are retracted and watches him put on protection with an expression of pure lust, which is only slightly tainted around the edges with a concern for what he’s about to let happen.

~

When Rust sinks into him at last, gently, slowly, savoring every moment of his hard-won restraint, Marty’s body feels like a part of himself that’s been missing during all those hard years, like an actual home. The tightness drives all the air out of his lungs, making him gasp. His vision turns hazy for a second before he draws a sharp breath and starts to move. Marty has his head buried in the pillow once more, but his groans can be heard anyways and he spreads his legs for Rust as far as possible. That’s the last clear thing going through Rust’s head, that Marty has probably never been in such a vulnerable position before, and how much he appreciates it being with him. After that, he only remembers their two bodies being one. All of his blood seems to rush down to between his legs, leaving him dizzy. He pushes into Marty and the tightness is almost too much, but god if it doesn’t feel like the best thing in the world. He runs one of his hands through Marty’s wheat blonde, soft hair, ever so gently grabbing it and forcing Marty to turn around as far as possible so that he can reach his mouth. Their tongues meet halfway while Rust keeps rocking into him, their bodies closely pressed together, their hearts frantically beating as one. Their sweat mingles before they are both gasping for air and Rust releases Marty’s head from his firm grip and holds on to his hips while quickening his pace further. A few locks of his sweaty hair keep dropping in front of his eyes and they perfectly frame Marty’s body splayed before him. He can literally taste the pressure building up in the back of his throat as he goes faster, deeper. While he keeps using one hand to hold on to Marty’s hips, he wraps the other one around Marty’s hard, pulsing cock, making him hiss and curse some more while desperately thrusting himself into his hand. It’s almost too much for Rust when Marty starts bucking up against him, moaning whenever they clash together. And then everything happens fast, they basically melt together and cry out each other’s name in husky voices and Rust bites into Marty’s neck hard while they both come, panting and sweating and seeing a fucking bright light before Rust collapses on top of Marty, being sure that what he just experienced must be what happiness tastes like, salty and free of sorrows and regrets.

~

Afterwards, they quietly lie besides each other with some limbs still tangled up, both breathing heavily. When their gazes meet, they look at each other almost fondly. “Are you alright?” Rust asks in a low voice. Marty, not yet trusting his own voice, just nods. He shifts and turns around, and lets Rust carefully wrap his arms around him from behind once more. Together, they slowly cool down, and Marty falls asleep soon afterwards. Rust lies awake for a while, listening to his calmed down breathing before peacefully falling asleep himself for the first time in a long while. He doesn’t dream this night, and is glad for it.

~

Rust gets up early the next day and smokes a cigarette in the first light of day, barefoot on the porch outside. He feels at peace with himself, refreshed in a way. The curls of smoke dance in the air before being blown away by the slight breeze. A sparrow hops down onto the fence next to Rust and curiously eyes the ash falling down from his cigarette. Rust doesn’t get up until after it flies away again. After a quick shower, he prepares a small breakfast for Marty before they have to head out. They don’t talk about what happened, don’t have to. It was a one-time deal, but it had helped them both, and just before entering the station where everyone is waiting to congratulate them, they look at each other, and Rust knows that he had actually done the right thing for once.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to dedicate this to hartcohle, whose fics were what originally led me to Rust x Marty and who keeps brightening my days with her works, and to blackeyedblonde, whose posts about these two adorable dorks accompany me day for day and who writes down the most amazing things about them, but also to everyone else in this amazing and precious fandom.


End file.
